Miracle Pact
by WriterApprentice
Summary: Drawn to a world defined by war, the Witch of Miracles blesses one of power.


She was bored and boredom was the poison that could kill witches. It was, after all, the curse that constantly hounded their endless existence. Lady Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles, hated it and the game before her offered no relief from that empty and still feeling that gripped her.

It was boring.

Everything was boring.

Feeling no need to continue such a pointless game, the Witch of Miracles erased the game board from her sight. The pieces on top fell the moment nothing was left to hold them up. Their smooth, solid surfaces melted into clouds of deep violet, and they spread soundlessly when they met the wooden floor.

Bernkastel watched until the last wisp dispersed before reaching for a bottle of red wine that was standing on a round end table, which was set to the right of the armchair she occupied. Accompanying the wine bottle was a wine glass. Already there was a small puddle of red liquid resting at the bottom of the bowl, indicating that the Witch of Miracles had helped herself to a glass before.

More likely a glass or two or three, as the wine in the bottle was nearing the bottom. It seemed that the game Bernkastel had been playing was so dull that she was more interested in the wine than in the game.

How unladylike of her.

The witch poured herself the final glass of wine. The color of it was the same as that of the armchair; a rich red with a mix of violet to give it depth. The bottle disappeared from her hand once the last drop fell, allowing her to hold the slender stem of the glass and give the wine a graceful swirl. The drink seemed to move in unison, away from the center of the bowl, coating the curved bottom in a seamless layer of wine before the legs formed. A fruity fragrance reached Bernkastel's nose and the witch knew it would be a good time to drink. She ceased her swirling and allowed the wine legs to fully develop. A flower pattern of curved light was formed on the table as the glow from a hanging lamp projected through the legs.

Bernkastel raised the glass and pressed the rim against her lips. One small tilt allowed the red wine to come forth and slip between her lips and into her mouth. A delicate sweetness met her tongue and was quickly followed by a dryness that left her mouth feeling rough. The wine flowed until Bernkastel lowered the glass. What remained in her mouth passed down her throat without relish.

Normally the Witch of Miracles would have a plate of spicy food to accommodate the wine, but today she felt no motivation to conjure up any dish, spicy or not. She was once again left with that horrible emptiness now that her senses were without stimuli. Even the crisp chill of the cold wine glass was gone, as its temperature now matched the warmth of her hand. There was nothing different to feel or experience. Everything felt the same.

Tedious.

Returning the glass to the end table, Bernkastel stood up from the armchair and vanished. Maybe she could find something to entertain her in the Sea of Kakera.

* * *

Millions of crystal fragments floated aimlessly in the great Sea of Kakera, each one containing an entire universe beneath the polished facets. Every scenario of every universe existed together in this sea without boundaries. The fragments numbered to infinity with more residing beyond the veil that obscured the distance of the Sea.

Bernkastel's form materialized in the Sea and slowly drifted down where her black Mary Janes touched the featureless bottom. She had visited the Sea of Kakera more times than she cared to remember, some of those visits yielding enjoyable results. Hopefully this visit would break the monotony of her existence once again.

Without moving her limbs or her body, the Witch of Miracles summoned forth the fragments closest to her. Twenty pristine shards came to her call and formed a semicircle in front of her. It only took her a fraction of a second to peer into those twenty universes before they returned to their aimless wandering across the Sea. The Witch of Miracles rejected all of them for they failed to hold a fraction of time's worth of entertainment. Thus began her task of picking and appraising through the realm of infinite worlds. The number of rejected worlds grew exponentially with the Witch of Miracles gathering an increasing amount of fragments only to move onto another gathering.

Then she stopped and no more fragments came to her.

She was being foolish to expect that humans would continue to provide her entertainment. All the fragments she inspected were solely focused on humans and their frivolous lives. Every one of these fragments around her was… human, and there was a limitation to that.

No matter how many times probability would change the course of events and the pieces on the game board; the human element was always to be the defining factor. Human emotions, thoughts, and cultures were the limiters that would define the fragments. Be it star-crossed lovers torn by family feuds or human teenagers waving sticks and screaming spells, the motivations and reasoning were purely human. Envy, love, greed, fear… all of them were so… human.

For witches that could live forever, eventually the stories would begin to meld and nothing would be entertaining.

She needed to find a world not defined by humans.

Not knowing where to go, the Witch of Miracles simply rose above the bottom of the Sea of Kakera and slowly spun in place. Hey eyes were closed and they continued to be so when Bernkastel decided to drift forward. She would leave everything to chance in her search for a decent fragment.

Eventually she felt the need to descended, and she did not open her eyes until she felt the soft bottom of the Sea press against the heels of her shoes.

In front of her was a fragment the size of a fist half a meter away. There was nothing about the fragment that made it discernible from all its neighbors. No cuts, chips, cracks, or deviant coloration. It was as pristine and perfect as all the fragments she had observed. However, the Witch of Miracles was not above inspecting a possibility to escape boredom.

The fragment came toward Bernkastel and levitated an inch over her outstretched palm. It idly rotated on a single axis as faint shapes flickered across the crystalline faces. The Witch of Miracles brought the fragment up to her eye level and peered within.

There was a planet made purely of metal, an inhuman world of alien beauty with lights that blazed from towering spires. Great seas of strange liquids decorated the planet's surface. What attracted her the most were the residents of the planet. She could only best describe them as human in suits of armor.

No, that wasn't right. She could see joints and pistons beneath their metal plating that bent, rolled and pumped to bring graceful movements from what would be burdensome bodies. They were more like living suits of armor that had wills of their own. This was… different.

The inhabitants, though not immortal, lived very long lives… and none of them were bored. How they managed that sparked Bernkastel's curiosity, and she was not one to easily release that feeling. She would continue to hold onto her curiosity until she left feeling satisfied that she had learned all there was to learn.

She continued to observe, their long history drawing out on the fragment's surface. Just like the humans, this fragment was not immune to war. Their peaceful existence had shattered so that death and suffering could lord over them.

She could see two major factions in opposition to each other. Resentment ran deep between them and it seemed the destinies of their leaders were intertwined, as if they were fated to battle. Both had eyes that glowed as bright as the Truths, one red and one blue. Within the glow burned a passion to see the other fall.

The only problem was that they were evenly matched. Their battles, though spectacular, were stalemates overall, with neither side gaining or losing ground. Such a war might continue until all the stars in their universe burned out and there was nothing left to rule over but the darkness.

An idea slipped into the witch's mind like a long-lost friend making a surprise visit.

It was welcome.

Satisfied with her find, the Witch of Miracles now clutched the fragment in her hand and vanished without a trace.

* * *

Another battle come and gone, but this time it ended with a victory. The Decepticons managed to secure an energon mine and refinery, as well as repel an Autobot assault on one of their base. Yet he wasn't pleased. All those victories meant nothing to Megatron while that damnable Optimus Prime still functioned. The Decepticon leader could feel his fluids boil and frame bristle whenever he heard the first syllable of that designation uttered.

Under Optimus' leadership, the Autobots have counteracted his advances. For every step he made, the Autobots now quickly pushed him back an equal amount. However, the same was true for them.

That didn't matter. A stalemate was simply defeat with another name for Megatron, and he was not going to tolerate it. He had to find a way to outwit or overpower Optimus. Something to break this lock on the War. Maybe a new weapon, new tactics…

"Maybe it is a miracle that you ask for," came an even, refined voice that bordered on disinterested.

Megatron swung his right arm around, fusion cannon still attached, to see a sight that gave him pause. Floating in front of him was a minuscule creature barely the size of his palm. He could already tell that it was an organic, but he knew of no organic race that could keep gravity from pulling it down while being stationary in the air. There was no sign of it using advance technology, either, other than the flowing, knee-length garment it wore.

"I expected my guards to have a little more discipline and skill, and not allow even an organic as small as you to come here," Megatron spoke, his voice low, and masking the initial shock he experienced. The barrel of his fusion cannon still pointed at the creature. "Tell me, organic, what brings you here."

The floating organic stared at him with unblinking purple optics. It unnerved Megatron to see that the organic's optics seemed almost void of emotion. They were like pools of infinite depth, but that was all there was in them. Unlike Cybertronians, organic optics did not glow, and the Decepticon leader felt like he was talking more to a corpse than a living being. He failed to read anything from the organic's face, though it seemed unfazed by the fact that it had a lethal weapon pointed in its direction. Either the organic was foolish or arrogant.

For some reason, Megatron could feel his spark rate rise the longer he gazed into those purple optics. It was… unnatural to peer into something, only to find nothing in return. Like a frame without a spark, dead optics stared ahead. Except this frame was still… 'alive.'

The organic finally closed its optics, bringing relief to Megatron and his spark calmed. He was quick to notice the digits of his right servo were digging into his palm, almost piercing the metal. With great effort, the Decepticon leader relaxed his grip. The idea of a mere organic bringing fear to his spark was absurd.

He watched as the organic brushed away a strand of that strange blue filament that fell from the top of its helm. Why it was so long, reaching down to the organic's waist, was a mystery to Megatron. Did it serve some purpose?

"I have noticed that you are in a very troublesome situation, Lord Megatron," the organic answered in that dead, refined voice. "You yourself wield much power and influence, yet there are those that bar you from reaching your goals."

"Perhaps I am, and so? I don't recall ever exchanging designations with you," the Decepticon leader spoke without a single change in his expression. A cool smile remained on his derma, even though he wanted to know how the organic knew that much about him. "It would be rather rude of me to not know whom I am speaking to."

"I doubt that you would remember much of me even if I did share my name with you," the organic said. "Know that I am the Witch of Miracles."

Megatron could barely tolerate such arrogance directed toward him. He would usually make examples of mechs that thought themselves above their position. However, this organic was entertaining and he felt no need to be a terrible host.

"A… witch?" he repeated the alien word slowly, unaccustomed to how it projected from his voice box.

"You are one who holds a strong desire to succeed," the Witch of Miracles continued. "I would not mind granting you the means to fulfill that desire."

"You? A minuscle organic smaller than the palm of my servo? You believe that you can assist me in this war?" Megatron guffawed. "Your hubris knows no bounds, organic."

The Witch of Miracles watched as the Decepticon leader laughed in front of her without restraint. Her face remained unchanged.

The laughter did not last long when Megatron noticed that the organic remained where it was without a sign of offense.

"Fine. I'll play your game, Witch of Miracles," Megatron said, smirking. Surely the organic was bluffing. "And what would you like in return? After all, nothing is free in this universe. There is always a price to be paid."

"Continue to battle your opponents and learn from your mistakes, and I will continue to bless you with the miracle that will break your stalemate. That is all I ask of you," the organic said before its form dissolved from the peds up. "Oh, and try not to bore me, okay?"

Those were its final words before nothingness remained. Megatron's last sight of the Witch of Miracles was a smile on its derma.

It could be described as cruel.


End file.
